Jamie Potter and The Prizoner of Azkaban
by Epic Hero Laugh
Summary: The next installment. Read and Review please. I only love reviewers.
1. Chapter 1

**Next chapter with be Lupin POV! I am a huge fan of him, and I will be introducing something I think you'll like! Enjoy the first few chapters in one of Prisoner of Azkaban.**

It was nearly midnight, and Jamie was lying on her stomach in her sleeping bag on the floor. Harry was on the mattress on the floor next to her. It was technically a bed, but it was such a poor excuse that Jamie was able to convince Harry that they should trade off nights in the "bed". Jamie was working with a pen. Much easier, and no ink spots. They were working together, and her pen stopped at the top of a likely looking paragraph. Throughout the whole summer so far, they had been working on their aura connection, and it was most helpful for homework together.

Harry pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose, moved his flashlight closer to the book, and read through the connection:

_Non-magic people (more commonly known as Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but not very good at recognizing it. On the rare occasion that they did catch a real witch or wizard, burning had no effect whatsoever. The witch or wizard would perform a basic Flame-Freezing Charm and then pretend to shriek with pain while enjoying a gentle, tickling sensation. Indeed, Wendelin the Weird enjoyed being burned so much that she allowed herself to be caught no less than forty-seven times in various disguises._

weird lady commented Jamie.

weird sister was the reply.

if we weren't at the Dursleys I'd smack you.

good thing, for the first time, that we are

Jamie stuck out her tongue and motion for harry to copy her response, letting him try to make "corrections".

If any of the Dursleys heard the scratching of harry's quill on their way to the bathroom, he'd probably find himself locked in the cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the summer.

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and their son, Dudley, were the remaining Potter's only living relatives. They were Muggles, and they had a very medieval attitude toward magic. Jamie's dead parents, who had been a witch and wizard themselves, were never mentioned under the Dursleys' roof. For years, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had hoped that if they kept Harry and Jamie as downtrodden as possible, they would be able to squash the magic out of them. To their fury, they had not been successful. These days they lived in terror of anyone finding out that their niece and nephew had spent most of the last two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The most they could do, however, was to lock away their spell books, wand, cauldron, and Harry's broomstick at the start of the summer break, and forbid them to talk to the neighbours(as if they would ever want to).

This separation from their spell books had been a real problem for them, because the teachers at Hogwarts had given them a lot of holiday work. One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about shrinking potions, was for Jamie's least favorite teacher, Professor Snape, who would be delighted to have an excuse to give anyone not in Slytherin detention for a month. Jamie and harry had therefore seized their chance in the first week of the holidays. While Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had gone out into the front garden to admire Uncle Vernon's new company car (in very loud voices, so that the rest of the street would notice it too), they had crept downstairs, picked the lock on the cupboard under the stairs,

grabbed all of their books(of course only one of each type and no Lockharts)and hidden them in the bedroom. As long as Harry didn't leave spots of ink on the sheets, the Dursleys need never know that they were studying magic by night.

They were particularly keen to avoid trouble with their aunt and uncle at the moment, as they were already in an especially bad mood with them, all because they'd received a telephone call from a fellow wizard one week into the school vacation.

Ron Weasley, who was one of their best friends at Hogwarts, came from a whole family of wizards. This meant that he knew a lot of things they didn't, but had never used a telephone before.

Most unluckily, it had been Uncle Vernon who had answered the call.

"Vernon Dursley speaking."

Harry and Jamie, who happened to be in the room at the time, froze as they heard Ron's voice answer.

"HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I — WANT — TO — TALK — TO — HARRY — AND-JAMIE-POTTER!"

Ron was yelling so loudly that Uncle Vernon jumped and held the receiver a foot away from his ear, staring at it with an expression of mingled fury and alarm.

"WHO IS THIS?" he roared in the direction of the mouthpiece. "WHO ARE YOU?"

"RON — WEASLEY!" Ron bellowed back, as though he and Uncle Vernon were speaking from opposite ends of a football field. "I'M — A — FRIEND — OF — THEIR'S — FROM — SCHOOL —"

Uncle Vernon's small eyes swiveled around to the twins, who was rooted to the spot.

"THERE IS NO HARRY OR JAMIE POTTER HERE!" he roared, now holding the receiver at arm's length, as though frightened it might explode. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON'T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!"

And he threw the receiver back onto the telephone as if dropping a poisonous spider.

The fight that had followed had been one of the worst ever.

"HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE — PEOPLE LIKE YOU!" Uncle Vernon had roared, spraying Harry with spit.

Ron obviously realized that he'd gotten them into trouble, because he hadn't called again. Their other best friend from Hogwarts, Hermione Granger, hadn't been in touch either. Jamie and Harry suspected that Ron had warned Hermione not to call, which was a pity, because Hermione, the cleverest witch in the year, had Muggle parents, knew perfectly well how to use a telephone, and would probably have had enough sense not to say that she went to Hogwarts.

So they had had no word from any of their wizarding friends for five long weeks, and this summer was turning out to be almost as bad as the last one. There was just one very small improvement — after swearing that he wouldn't use her to send letters to any of his friends, Harry had been allowed to let his owl, Hedwig, out at night. Uncle Vernon had given in because of the racket Hedwig made if she was locked in her cage all the time. GO Hedwig. stand up for what you believe in. Jamie had of course used Hedwig to send a letter/poem to Ginny

_**I'll still be your friend**_

_**I'll love ya till the end**_

_**I totally forgive you**_

_**even if you won't think i'll do**_

_**I'll still be your friend**_

_**I'll love ya till the end**_

_**I know I can't find another**_

_**amazing friend like you**_

_**And when your boyfriend is my brother**_

_**I'm sure he would agree too.**_

_**Ginny I totally forgive you.**_

The silence in the dark house was broken only by the distant, grunting snores of his enormous cousin, Dudley. It must be very late, Jamie thought. Her eyes hurt she was so tired. Maybe they should finish this essay tomorrow night…

He replaced the top of the ink bottle; Jamie pulled an old pillowcase from under the "bed"; put the flashlight, A History of Magic, their essays, quill, and ink, and her purple pen inside it; and hid the lot under a loose floorboard under his bed. Then they stood up, stretched, and checked the time on the luminous alarm clock on his bedside table.

It was one o'clock in the morning. They had been thirteen years old, without realizing it, for a whole hour.

Harry, though still rather small and skinny for his age, had grown a few inches over the last year. His jet-black hair, however, was just as it always had been — stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it. The eyes behind his glasses were bright green, and on his forehead, clearly visible through his hair, was a thin scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning.

Jamie remained unchanged, but she had taken out the gold streks she usually put for gryffindor support in her hair for the summer.

Jamie thought she was lucky to have reached her 13th birthday.

She scanned the starry sky for a sign of Hedwig, perhaps soaring back to them with a dead mouse dangling from her beak, expecting praise. Gazing absently over the rooftops, it was a few seconds before jamie realized what she was seeing.

Silhouetted against the golden moon, and growing larger every moment, was a large, strangely lopsided creature, and it was flapping in their direction. The bizarre creature soared over one of the street lamps of Privet Drive, and Harry, finally realizing what it was, leapt aside.

Through the window soared three owls, two of them holding up the third, which appeared to be unconscious. They landed with a soft flump on Harry's bed, and the middle owl, which was large and gray, keeled right over and lay motionless. There were two large packages tied to its legs.

Jamie recognized the unconscious owl at once — his name was Errol, and he belonged to the Weasley family. Harry dashed to the bed, untied the cords around Errol's legs, took off the parcel, and then carried Errol to Hedwig's cage. Errol opened one bleary eye, gave a feeble hoot of thanks, and began to gulp some water. jamie would have helped, but most owls, unlike other creatures, didn't trust her. Hedwig was the only one that did.

Harry turned back to the remaining owls. One of them, the large snowy female, was his own Hedwig. She, too, was carrying two parcels and looked extremely pleased with herself. She gave Harry an affectionate nip with her beak as he removed her burden, a nod to Jamie, then flew across the room to join Errol.

jamie didn't recognize the third owl, a handsome tawny one, but she knew at once where it had come from, because in addition to a third package, it was carrying a letter bearing the Hogwarts crest. When Harry relieved this owl of its burden, it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night. way to pompous. jamie told harry that it was a percy owl, and he stifled his snorts and told her that if she insulted owls like that he could see why they all hated her.

Harry sat down next to Jamie on his bed and grabbed Errol's package,

Jamie ripped off the brown paper, and discovered a present wrapped in gold and their first ever birthday card. Fingers trembling slightly, she opened the envelope so they could read together.

Two pieces of paper fell out — a letter and a newspaper clipping.

The clipping had clearly come out of the wizarding newspaper, the Daily Prophet, because the people in the black-and-white picture were moving. Jamie picked up the clipping, smoothed it out, and read through aura-speech:

MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw.

A delighted Mr. Weasley told the Daily Prophet, "We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank."

The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend.

Jamie scanned the moving photograph, and a grin spread across her face as she saw all nine of the Weasleys waving furiously at him, standing in front of a large pyramid. Plump little Mrs. Weasley; tall, balding Mr. Weasley; six sons; and one daughter, all (though the black-and-white picture didn't show it) with flaming-red hair. Right in the middle of the picture was Ron, tall and gangling, with his pet rat, Scabbers, on his shoulder and his arm around Ginny.

jamie couldn't think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Weasleys, who were very nice and extremely poor.

She picked up Ron's letter and unfolded it.

Dear Harry and Jamie,

Happy birthday!

Look, I'm really sorry about that telephone call.

I hope the Muggles didn't give you a hard time. I asked Dad, and he reckons I shouldn't have shouted.

It's amazing here in Egypt. Bill's taken us around all the tombs and you wouldn't believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn't let Ginny come in the last one.

I wasn't happy.

I couldn't believe it when Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it's gone on this trip, but they're going to buy me a new wand for next year.

We'll be back about a week before term starts and we'll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you there?

Don't let the Muggles get you down!

Try and come to London,

Ron

P.S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week.

pps love you jamie, stay blue 3 ginny

Jamie stifled laughter to the confusion of harry.

Jamie glanced back at the photograph. Percy, who was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, was looking particularly smug.

He had pinned his Head Boy badge to the fez perched jauntily on top of his neat hair, his horn-rimmed glasses flashing in the Egyptian sun.

Harry now turned to his present and unwrapped it. Inside was what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Ron beneath it.

Harry — this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there's someone untrustworthy around, it's supposed to light up and spin. Bill says it's rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn't reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn't realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup.

Bye — Ron

Harry put the Pocket Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it stood quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of his clock. He looked at it happily for a few seconds, then Jamie opened hers.

there was a small red egyptian symbol that looked like a dish with a small blue-ish brown-ish gem on the top. somehow it managed to be chocolate brown and sky blue at the same time, and an old spare bit of parchment. Jamie put the charm on her necklace next to the doe with emerald eyes(just pretend i mentioned it earlier)and opened the note, confused to the parchment.

Hey Jamie,

Fred and George told me to give you the parchment, and when you get to Hogwarts, they'll tell you how to "work it" or something.

Ginny helped me with the charm. She said it represent me and her, but she also said you had to be a girl to truly get it, so whatever.

Bye-ron

Jamie smiled and together they picked up hermione's packages.

Dear Harry and jamie,

Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you're both all right.

I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going to send this to you — what if they'd opened it at customs? — but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you both got something for your birthday for a change.

I bought your presents by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (I've been getting it delivered; it's so good to keep up with what's going on in the wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he's learning loads. (really learning jamie said sarcastically. Harry gave a too true back and they continued)I'm really jealous — the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating.

There's some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out, I hope it's not too long — it's two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for.

Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first!

Love from Hermione

P.S. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really pleased. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it.

Jamie laughed as harry put Hermione's letter aside and they each picked up her present. It was very heavy. Knowing Hermione, she was sure it would be a large book full of very difficult spells or something really special and totally jamie.

Her heart gave a huge bound as she ripped back the paper and saw a sleek black leather case, with silver words stamped across it, reading Broomstick Servicing Kit. taped to it was a note that said in mone's handwriting- you hate how that school broom looks, so ii figured this would help)

"Wow, Hermione!" Harry whispered, unzipping the case to look inside.

There was a large jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass to clip on your broom for long journeys, and a Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare.

Harry put the leather case aside and picked up the last parcel. jamie recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: this was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. She tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before she could unwrap it properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly — as though it had jaws.

Jamie bravely and carefully unwrapped the package.

It was a book

jamie just had time to register its handsome green cover, emblazoned with the golden title The Monster Book of Monsters, before it flipped onto its edge and scuttled sideways along the bed like some weird crab.

Jamie carefully went after, her aura instincively reaching out to soothe the book. she grabbed the side cover so carefully she was practically stroking it and immediately calmed. weird. jamie looked at it for a minute then tried to open, but it snapped at her. She repeated her action from last time and it calmed instantly. Harry handed her a belt and she tied it around the creature/book.

Then she reached for Hagrid's card.

It struck Jamie as ominous that Hagrid thought a biting book would come in useful, but she put Hagrid's card up next to Ron's and Hermione's, grinning more broadly than ever. Now there was only the letter from Hogwarts left.

Noticing that it was rather thicker than usual, Jamie slit open the envelope addressed to her, pulled out the first page of parchment within, and read:

_**Dear Miss Potter,**_

_**Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.**_

_**Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.**_

_**A list of books for next year is enclosed.**_

_**Yours sincerely,**_

_**Professor M. McGonagall**_

_**Deputy Headmistress**_

Jamie pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, no longer grinning. It would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade on weekends; she knew it was an entirely wizarding village, and he had never set foot there. But how on earth were they going to persuade Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia to sign the form?

She looked over at the alarm clock. It was now two o'clock in the morning.

Deciding that she'd worry about the Hogsmeade form when she woke up, Jamie got back into bed while Harry ticked off the Hogwarts calendar they had made, counting down the days left until their return to Hogwarts.

Jamie and Harry went down to breakfast the next morning to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually. It was truly a disgusting sight.

Harry and Jamie managed to sit down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of mustache. Far from wishing them a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys made any sign that they had noticed them enter the room, but Jamie was far too used to this to care. She helped herself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the reporter on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict.

"… the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately."

"No need to tell us he's no good," snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. "Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!"

He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbow-length tangle, Harry felt very well groomed indeed, and told Jamie so. Jamie didn't respond. Black, Black, where had she heard that before? Black... What was the first name? It felt like part of a dream, but a nightmare or a good dream. Jamie couldn't tell.

The reporter had reappeared.

"The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today —"

"Hang on!" barked Uncle Vernon, staring furiously at the reporter. "You didn't tell us where that maniac's escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!"

Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. Jamie knew Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hot line number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on the boring, law-abiding neighbors.

"When will they learn," said Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, "that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?"

"Very true," said Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into next door's runner-beans.

Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch, and added, "I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marge's train gets in at ten."

Jamie, whose thoughts had been upstairs with the Broomstick Servicing Kit and the monster book of monsters, was brought back to earth with an unpleasant bump.

"Aunt Marge?" the two Potters blurted out. "Sh-she's not coming here, is she?"

Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Jamie's (whose mother had been Aunt Petunia's sister), she had been forced to call her 'Aunt' all her life. Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. usually, the fact that the person owned a dog would endear them to Jamie, but not in that fat tub of lard's case.

She didn't often stay at Privet Drive, because she couldn't bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out horribly vividly in Jamie's mind.

At Dudley's fifth birthday party, Aunt Marge had whacked them around the shins with her walking stick to stop them from beating Dudley at musical statues, even though it was pretty much impossible to lose to Dudley. A few years later, she had turned up at Christmas with a computerized robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits for Harry and Jamie.

On her last visit, the year before they started at Hogwarts, Harry had accidentally trodden on the tail of her favorite dog. Ripper had chased Harry out into the garden and up a tree, and Aunt Marge had refused to call him off until past midnight. Marge and Ripper had of course sent Jamie up right after Harry. Ripper was a little disturbed dog.

The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Dudley's eyes.

"Marge'll be here for a week," Uncle Vernon snarled, "and while we're on the subject," he pointed a fat finger threateningly at Jamie need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her."

Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television. Watching them being bullied by uncle Vernon was Dudley's favorite form of entertainment.

"Firstly," growled Uncle Vernon, "you'll keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to Marge."

"All right," said Harry bitterly, "if she does when she's talking to me."

"Secondly," said Uncle Vernon, acting as though he had not heard Harry's reply, "as Marge doesn't know anything about your abnormality, I don't want any — any funny stuff while she's here. You behave yourself, got me?"

"I will if she does," said Jamie through gritted teeth.

"And thirdly," said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, "we've told Marge you attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, and that Jamie was such a difficult case she had to go to the school with you."

"What?" they yelled.

"And you'll be sticking to that story, or there'll be trouble," spat Uncle Vernon.

Jamie sat there, white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it. Aunt Marge coming for a weeklong visit — it was the worst birthday present the Dursleys had ever given them, including that pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks.

"Well, Petunia," said Uncle Vernon, getting heavily to his feet (is there any other possible way for that Man to rise to his feet), "I'll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?"

"No," said Dudley, whose attention had returned to the television now that Uncle Vernon had finished threatening.

"Duddy's got to make himself smart for his auntie," said Aunt Petunia, smoothing Dudley's thick blond hair. "Mummy's bought him a lovely new bow-tie."

as if anyone could see it Jamie auraed to Harry.

Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder.

"See you in a bit, then," he said, and he left the kitchen.

Harry, who had been sitting in a kind of horrified trance, had a sudden idea. Abandoning his toast, he got quickly to his feet and followed Uncle Vernon to the front door.

Uncle Vernon was pulling on his car coat.

"I'm not taking you," he snarled as he turned to see two angry Potters watching him.

"Like I wanted to come," said Harry coldly. "I want to ask you something."

Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously.

"Third years at Hog — at my school are allowed to visit the village sometimes," said Harry.

"So?" snapped Uncle Vernon, taking his car keys from a hook next to the door.

"I need you to sign the permission form," said Harry in a rush.

"And why should I do that?" sneered Uncle Vernon.

"Well," said Harry, choosing his words carefully, "it'll be hard work, pretending to Aunt Marge I go to that St. Whatsits…"

"St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, and Harry was pleased to hear a definite note of panic in Uncle Vernon's voice.

"Exactly," said Harry, looking calmly up into Uncle Vernon's large, purple face. "It's a lot to remember. I'll have to make it sound convincing, won't I? What if I accidentally let something slip?"

"You'll get the stuffing knocked out of you, won't you?" roared Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry with his fist raised. But Harry stood his ground.

"Knocking the stuffing out of me won't make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her," Jamie said grimly, cottoning on to more than just the 'i have an idea' harry had given her.

Uncle Vernon stopped, his fist still raised, his face an ugly puce.

"But if you sign my permission form," Harry went on quickly, "I swear we'll remember where we're supposed to go to school, and we'll act like Mug — like we're normal and everything."

Jamie could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple.

"Right," he snapped finally. "I shall monitor your behavior carefully during Marge's visit. If, at the end of it, you've toed the line and kept to the story, I'll sign your ruddy form."

He wheeled around, pulled open the front door, and slammed it so hard that one of the little panes of glass at the top fell out.

They didn't return to the kitchen. instead they went back upstairs to the bedroom. If they were going to act like real Muggles, they should start now. Slowly and sadly they gathered up all the presents (except for jamie's charm)and the birthday cards and hid them under the loose floorboard with their homework. While Harry went to Hedwig's cage, Jamie began putting false covers on her school books. she ripped up some paper lunch bags and covered all the books she wanted to read. She grabbed Eragon, which was the only book she had ever read portraying dragon's in a good light, even if it was Muggle, and settled down. suddenly she dropped the book.

"Harry, in this book, it talks about people that can read minds! I think it's possible, I read it somewhere." Harry sat down, thinking it over while Jamie went through the stack of fake-covered books, finding the animaigus potion one.

_One way to induce the proper vision is to use Legimency, the art of reading minds, to delve into the inner animal alcove of the mind. While this is tresspassing, done by one you trust, it is an extremely helpful vision inducer, as just a small amount of pressure will induce a proper vision._

"I'm fairly positive Snape does that" Harry said angrily.

"You can block it if you just concentrate on one thing to the exclusion to all others. I'm going to practive while Aunt Marge is speaking." Jamie said excitedly, her voice going hard at the words Aunt Marge.

But they didn't have long with this new discovery. Harry was just finished with the explanation of Mind protecting in Eragon when Aunt Petunia was shrieking up the stairs for them to come down and get ready to welcome their guest.

"Do something about your hair!" Aunt Petunia snapped as he reached the hall.

Jamie couldn't see the point of trying to make his hair lie flat. Aunt Marge loved criticizing them, so the untidier they looked, the happier she would be. Jamie shortened her hair, Aunt Petunia looked scandalized until Jamie pointed out that if she went to a school like st. brutus', she would have to have short hair. Jamie made it in the same style as Harry's, though she kept it slightly wavy, making it even messier.

All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Uncle Vernon's car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors and footsteps on the garden path.

"Get the door!" Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry.

A feeling of great gloom settled in Jamie's stomach as Harry pulled the door open.

On the threshold stood Aunt Marge. She was very like Uncle Vernon: large, beefy, and purple-faced, she even had a mustache, though not as bushy as his.

In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog.

"Where's my Dudders?" roared Aunt Marge. "Where's my neffy poo?"

Dudley came waddling down the hall, his blond hair plastered flat to his fat head, a bow tie just visible under his many chins. Aunt Marge thrust the suitcase into Harry's stomach, knocking the wind out of him, seized Dudley in a tight one-armed hug, and planted a large kiss on his cheek.

Jamie knew perfectly well that Dudley only put up with Aunt Marge's hugs because he was well paid for it, and sure enough, when they broke apart, Dudley had a crisp twenty-pound note clutched in his fat fist.

"Petunia!" shouted Aunt Marge, striding past them as though they were lawn gnomes(Muggle kind). Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia kissed, or rather, Aunt Marge bumped her large jaw against Aunt Petunias bony cheekbone.

Uncle Vernon now came in, smiling jovially as he shut the door.

"Tea, Marge?" he said. "And what will Ripper take?"

"Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer," said Aunt Marge

as they all proceeded into the kitchen, leaving Harry alone in the hall with the suitcase. But Jamie wasn't complaining; any excuse not to be with Aunt Marge was fine by her, so they began to heave the case upstairs into the spare bedroom, taking as long as they could. They grabbed books, hoping they could get away with the excuse of "we must read it for school".

By the time they got back to the kitchen, Aunt Marge had been supplied with tea and fruitcake, and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner. Jamie saw Aunt Petunia wince slightly as specks of tea and drool flecked her clean floor. Aunt Petunia hated animals. Serves her right!

"Who's looking after the other dogs, Marge?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"Oh, I've got Colonel Fubster managing them," boomed Aunt Marge. "He's retired now, good for him to have something to do. But I couldn't leave poor old Ripper. He pines if he's away from me."

Ripper began to growl again as Harry sat down. He growled slightly more quietly at Jamie, who animals almost seemed to love. Or at least they didn't hate her as much as they should or usually would. This directed Aunt Marge's attention to them for the first time.

"So!" she barked. "Still here, are you?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"You betcha," Said Jamie, all chipper.

"Don't you say 'yes' in that ungrateful tone," Aunt Marge growled. "It's damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you. Wouldn't have done it myself. You'd have gone straight to an orphanage if you'd been dumped on my doorstep."

Jamie was bursting to say that she'd rather live in an orphanage than with the Dursleys, but the thought of the Hogsmeade form stopped her. She kept her face neutral while Harry forced his face into a painful smile.

"Don't you smirk at me!" boomed Aunt Marge. "I can see you haven't improved since I last saw you. I hoped school would knock some manners into you." She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her mustache, and said, "Where is it that you send him, again, Vernon?"

"St. Brutus's," said Uncle Vernon promptly. "It's a first-rate institution for hopeless cases."

"I see," said Aunt Marge. "Do they use the cane at St. Brutus's, boy?" she barked across the table.

"Er —"

Uncle Vernon nodded curtly behind Aunt Marge's back.

"Yes," said Harry. Then, obviously feeling he might as well do the thing properly, he added, "All the time."

"Excellent," said Aunt Marge. "I won't have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. A good thrashing is what's needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have you been beaten often?"

"Oh, yeah," said Harry, "loads of times."

Aunt Marge narrowed her eyes.

"I still don't like your tone, boy," she said. "If you can speak of your beatings in that casual way, they clearly aren't hitting you hard enough. Petunia, I'd write if I were you. Make it clear that you approve the use of extreme force in this boy's case. and what of the girl?"

WE had to send her there as well. She's completely hopeless, she gives everyone trouble."

"Do the boys beat you, girl?"

"Of course of course," Jamie said casually. " they corner me in the halls, they step on me. But I always get them back" a Snape worthy evil smile appeared on the face, and most of the people in the room shivered.

"Heard the news this morning, Marge? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?" Uncle Vernon said, trying not to show his fear at Jamie's scary performance.

As Aunt Marge started to make herself at home, Jamie caught herself thinking almost longingly of life at number four without her. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encouraged her to stay out of their way, which she was only too happy to do. Aunt Marge, on the other hand, wanted Harry under her eye at all times, (and Jamie always came to) so that she could boom out suggestions for his improvement. She delighted in comparing Harry with Dudley,

and took huge pleasure in buying Dudley expensive presents while glaring at Harry, as though daring him to ask why he hadn't got a present too. She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made the twins such unsatisfactory people.

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the they've turned out, Vernon," she said over lunch on the third day. "If there's something rotten on the inside, there's nothing anyone can do about it."

Jamie tried to concentrate on her food, but her hands shook and her face was starting to burn with anger. They were insulting Harry! How dare you she wanted to scream. but she remembered the form. Think about Hogsmeade. Don't say anything. Don't rise —

Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine.

"It's one of the basic rules of breeding," she said. "You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup —"

At that moment, the wineglass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Marge sputtered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping.

"Marge!" squealed Aunt Petunia. "Marge, are you all right?"

"Not to worry," grunted Aunt Marge, mopping her face with her napkin. "Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster's the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip…"

Jamie knew Harry had exploded it.

"It's usually the mother, especially with these males. The fathers, if the fathers are complete b*****ds, the young females will be."

Her new glass exploded. Jamie got up and left the room, shaking and crying with anger. she joined Harry in the hallway, she had been so angry she had barely even registered him leaving.

Jamie got through the next three days by forcing herself to think about her beautiful Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare whenever Aunt Marge started on them. This worked quite well, though it seemed to give her a glazed look, because Aunt Marge started voicing the opinion that she was mentally subnormal. ditto Aunt Marge, ditto.

At last, at long last, the final evening of Marge's stay arrived.

Aunt Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Uncle Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine. The fact that she was leaving was for sure a thing to celebrate. They got all the way through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of Potter faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Vernon bored them a with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company; then Aunt Petunia made coffee and Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.

"Can I tempt you, Marge?"

Aunt Marge had already had quite a lot of wine. Her huge face was very red.

"Just a small one, then," she chuckled. "A bit more than that… and a bit more… that's the ticket."

Dudley was eating his fourth slice of pie. Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out. Jamie wanted to go upstairs, really wanted to escape. she was careful not to think about disappearing too hard because the disaster's could be catastrophic. She had to sit it out though.

"Aah," said Aunt Marge, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down. "Excellent nosh, Petunia. It's normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after…" She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach. "Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy," she went on, winking at Dudley. "You'll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father. Yes, I'll have a spot more brandy, Vernon…"

"Now, this one here —"

She jerked her head at Harry and Jamie, who felt their stomachs clench. The Handbook, she thought quickly.

"These two've got a mean, runty look about them. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred."

Jamie was trying to remember page twelve of her book: A Charm to Cure Reluctant Reversers.

"It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia" — she patted Aunt Petunia's bony hand with her shovel-like one "but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result right in front of us."

Jamie was staring at her plate, a funny ringing in her ears. Grasp your broom firmly by the tail, she thought. But she couldn't remember what came next. Aunt Marge's voice seemed to be boring into her like one of Uncle Vernon's drills.

"This Potter," said Aunt Marge loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, "you never told me what he did?"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents.

"He — didn't work," said Uncle Vernon, with half a glance at Jamie. "Unemployed."

"As I expected!" said Aunt Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. "A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who —"

"He was not," said Harry suddenly. The table went very quiet. Jamie was shaking all over. She had never felt so angry in her life.

"MORE BRANDY!" yelled Uncle Vernon, who had gone very white. He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge's glass. "You, boy," he snarled at Harry. "And you girl, Go to bed, go on —"

"No, Vernon," hiccupped Aunt Marge, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on Harry's. "Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect) —"

"They didn't die in a car crash!" said Jamie, who found herself on her feet.

"They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!" screamed Aunt Marge, swelling with fury. "You are an insolent, ungrateful little —"

But Aunt Marge suddenly stopped speaking. For a moment, it looked as though words had failed her. She seemed to be swelling with inexpressible anger — but the swelling didn't stop.

Her great red face started to expand, her tiny eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech — next second, several buttons had just burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls — she was inflating like a monstrous balloon, her stomach bursting free of her tweed waistband, each of her fingers blowing up like a salami… If Jamie hadn't been so angry she would have laughed. Jamie had to do her bit. Ripper began to turn pink, he was swelling as well, but he was also becoming a pink poodle. Aunt Marge grew a snout.

"MARGE!" yelled Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia together as Aunt Marge's whole body began to rise off her chair toward the ceiling. She was entirely round, now, like a vast life buoy with piggy eyes and nose, and her hands and feet stuck out weirdly as she drifted up into the air, making apoplectic popping noises.

"NOOOOOOO!"

Uncle Vernon seized one of Marge's feet and tried to pull her down again, but was almost lifted from the floor himself. A second later, Ripper leapt forward and sank his teeth into Uncle Vernon's leg. But Ripper began to float as well, letting go of Vernon in surprise.

Harry and Jamie tore from the dining room before anyone could stop them, heading for the cupboard under the stairs. The cupboard door burst magically open as they reached it. In seconds, they had heaved both trunks to the front door. They sprinted upstairs and threw themselves under the bed, wrenching up the loose floorboard, and grabbed the pillowcase full of the books and birthday presents. They wriggled out, seized Hedwig's empty cage, Jamie grabbing her sack of books, and dashed back downstairs to the trunks, just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters.

"COME BACK IN HERE!" he bellowed. "COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!"

" A PIN WILL SUFFICE UNCLE VERNON!" Jamie yelled.

Harry kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon.

"She deserved it," Harry said, breathing very fast. "She deserved what she got. You keep away from me."

He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door.

"I'm going," Harry said. "I've had enough."

And in the next moment, he was out in the dark, quiet street, heaving his heavy trunk behind him, Hedwig's cage under his arm. Jamie followed, her books now in her trunk, Des in her pocket, and anger pushing her forward.

They were several streets away before they collapsed onto a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging the trunks.

They were stranded, quite alone, in the dark Muggle world, with absolutely nowhere to go. And the worst of it was, they had just done serious magic,

which meant that they were almost certainly expelled from Hogwarts. They had broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry so badly, she was surprised Ministry of Magic representatives weren't swooping down on them where they sat.

Jamie was thinking fast. No Muggle money. they could walk to London. Or they could become invisible, put the trunks on Harry's broom, put Harry's cloak over that, and it might work. maybe get some bags somehow to put most of the stuff in so it wouldn't be so heavy.

A funny prickling on the back of her neck had made Jamie feel they was being watched, but the street appeared to be deserted, and no lights shone from any of the large square houses.

someone or something was standing in the narrow gap between the garage and the fence behind them. Jamie looked at the black alleway

"Lumos," they muttered together, and two lights appeared, almost dazzling them. Jamie saw the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes. a dog of some sort, but it was huge. maybe it was a bear.

Harry stepped backward. His legs hit his trunk and he tripped. His wand flew out of his hand as he flung out an arm to break his fall, and he landed, hard, in the gutter.

There was a deafening BANG, and Jamie threw up her hands to shield her eyes against a sudden blinding light…

With a yell, he rolled back onto the pavement, just in time. A second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights screeched to a halt exactly where Harry had just been lying.

They belonged, as Jamie saw when she raised her head, to a triple-decker, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windshield spelled The Knight Bus. quickly, Jamie took on a very ordinary disguise, but one that would match Harry well enough. Her hair went black, striaght and longer. She went to shorter than his height she took on younger characteristics, looking more ten that thirteen. A conductor in a violently purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve—"

The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Harry, who was still sitting on the ground. Harry snatched up his wand again and scrambled to his feet. Close up, Jamie saw that Stan Shunpike was only a few years older than they were, eighteen or nineteen at most, with large, protruding ears and quite a few pimples.

"What were you doin' down there?" said Stan, dropping his professional manner.

"Fell over," said Harry.

"'Choo fall over for?" sniggered Stan.

"I didn't do it on purpose," said Harry, annoyed. One of the knees in his jeans was torn, and the hand he had thrown out to break his fall was bleeding. Jamie was still paying most of her attention to the place were the dog had been.

"'Choo lookin' at?" said Stan.

"There was a big black thing," said Jamie, pointing uncertainly into the gap. "Like a dog… but massive…"

He looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open. With a feeling of unease, Harry saw Stan's eyes move to the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Woss that on your 'ead?" said Stan abruptly.

"Nothing," said Harry quickly, flattening his hair over his scar. If the Ministry of Magic was looking for him, he didn't want to make it too easy for them.

"Woss your name?" Stan persisted.

"I'm Rose, and this is Harry, he's my big brother, he's taking me to Diagon alley so look at the brooms adn pranks."

"well that's wonderful. is Harry Potter?"

"No silly, he's not the boy who lived. He's my brother. my parents heard about Harry and named my brother after him."

"What's your last name."

"Vernon"

"Listen, how much would it be to get to London?" Harry asked.

"Eleven Sickles," said Stan, "but for firteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot-water bottle an' a toofbrush in the color of your choice."

Harry rummaged once more in his trunk, extracted his money bag, and shoved some gold into Stan's hand. He and Stan then lifted his trunk, with Hedwig's cage balanced on top, up the steps of the bus. Then they went for JAmie's lifting that too. Jamie decided to leave them to it. the driver noticed and laughed kindly.

There were no seats; instead, half a dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-paneled walls. A tiny wizard in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered, "Not now, thanks, I'm pickling some slugs" and rolled over in his sleep.

"You 'ave this one," Stan whispered, shoving Harry's trunk under the bed right behind the driver, who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel. "This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is Harry and Rose Vernon, Ern."

Ernie Prang, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses, nodded to them, who nervously flattened his bangs again and sat down on his bed. Jamie sat next to him.

_nice performance Jamie_

_thank you_

_i was being sarcastic_

_so, i'll take it as a compliment_

"Take'er away, Ern," said Stan, sitting down in the armchair next to Ernie's.

There was another tremendous BANG, and the next moment Jamie found herself flat on her bed, thrown backward by the speed of the Knight Bus. Pulling herself up, Jamie stared out of the dark window and saw that they were now bowling along a completely different street. Stan was watching Jamie's stunned face with great enjoyment.

"This is where we was before you flagged us down," he said. "Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?"

"Ar," said Ernie.

"How come the Muggles don't hear the bus?" said Harry.

"Them!" said Stan contemptuously. "Don' listen properly, do they? Don' look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don'."

"Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan," said Ern. "We'll be in Abergavenny in a minute."

Stan passed Harry's bed and disappeared up a narrow wooden staircase. Ernie didn't seem to have mastered the use of a steering wheel. The Knight Bus kept mounting the pavement, but it didn't hit anything; lines of lampposts, mailboxes, and trash cans jumped out of its way as it approached and back into position once it had passed.

Stan came back downstairs, followed by a faintly green witch wrapped in a traveling cloak.

"'Ere you go, Madam Marsh," said Stan happily as Ern stamped on the brake and the beds slid a foot or so toward the front of the bus. Madam Marsh clamped a handkerchief to her mouth and tottered down the steps. Stan threw her bag out after her and rammed the doors shut; there was another loud BANG, and they were thundering down a narrow country lane, trees leaping out of the way. It was wonderful. Jamie laughed while looking out the window, watching everything speed by.

Stan had unfurled a copy of the Daily Prophet and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at JAmie from the front page. He looked strangely familiar.

"That man!" Harry said, forgetting his troubles for a moment. "He was on the Muggle news!"

Stanley turned to the front page and chuckled.

"Sirius Black," he said, nodding. "'Course 'e was on the Muggle news, Neville. Where you been?"

He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank look on both of their faces, removed the front page, and handed it to Harry.

"You oughta read the papers more, Harry."

Harry held the paper up to the candlelight and together they read:

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress,

is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today. "We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm."

Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

"Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it — who'd believe him if he did?"

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

Jamie looked into the shadowed eyes of Sirius Black, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive. Jamie had never met a vampire, but she had seen pictures of them in her Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and Black, with his waxy white skin, looked just like one. Jamie still thought he looked familliar. which struck her as odd, because she thought that she would have noticed if she had met someone who had murdered thirteen people. He still looked familliar though.

"Scary-lookin' fing, inee?" said Stan, who had been watching them read.

"He murdered thirteen people?" said Harry, handing the page back to Stan, "with one curse?"

"Yep," said Stan, "in front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?"

"Ar," said Ern darkly.

Stan swiveled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Harry.

"Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo," he said.

"What, Voldemort?" said Harry, without thinking. Idiot.

Even Stan's pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid the bus.

"You outta your tree?" yelped Stan. "'Choo say 'is name for?"

"Sorry," said Harry hastily. "Sorry, I — I forgot —"

"Forgot!" said Stan weakly. "Blimey, my 'eart's goin' that fast…"

"So — so Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?" Harry prompted apologetically

"Yeah," said Stan, still rubbing his chest. "Yeah, that's right. Very close to You-Know-'Oo, they say… anyway, when little 'Arry Potter got the better of You-Know-'Oo" — Harry nervously flattened his bangs down again — "all You-Know-'Oo's supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Ern? Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-'Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard he thought 'e'd be second-in-command once You-Know-'Oo 'ad taken over.

"Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way.

'Orrible, eh? An' you know what Black did then?" Stan continued in a dramatic whisper.

"What?" said jamie.

"Laughed," said Stan. "Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'Cos 'e's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?".

"You really should stop saying the name, you know mum doesn't want you to. she says he's still out there and will get anyone who says his name. if you don't stop, i'll tell mom once we get to the Leaky Cauldron. she'll be worried about us anyway, we're late."

"You're late, we better get you there first, Leaky Cauldron it is."

"But If he weren't when he went to Azkaban, he will be now," said Ern in his slow voice. "I'd blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you… after what he did…"

"They 'ad a job coverin' it up, din' they, Ern?" Stan said. "'Ole street blown up an' all them Muggles dead. What was it they said 'ad 'appened, Ern?"

"Gas explosion," grunted Ernie.

"An' now 'e's out," said Stan, examining the newspaper picture of Black's gaunt face again. "Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Ern?

Beats me 'ow 'e did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy 'is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?"

Ernie suddenly shivered. "Talk about summat else, Stan, there's a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles."

Stan put the paper away reluctantly, and

BANG.

They were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Jamie sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus's way. The sky was getting a little lighter.

Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small and shabby-looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley. Jamie turned back to her original self.

"who 'r you?" asked Stan in Shock.

"I am Jamie Rose POtter, and this is my brother Harry."

"I knew it I knew It."

"Fooled ya"

Jamie and Harry grabbed the trunks and headed outside.

"Thanks," Harry said to Ern.

"There you are," said a voice.

Before Jamie could turn, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Jamie looked up at the owner of the hand on her shoulder and felt a bucketful of ice cascade into her stomach — she had walked right into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself.

Fudge increased the pressure on Jamie's shoulder, and Jamie found herself and Harry being steered inside the pub.

A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar. It was Tom, the wizened, toothless landlord.

"You've got him, Minister!" said Tom. "Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?"

"Perhaps a pot of tea," said Fudge, who still hadn't let go of them.

There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them, and Stan and Ern appeared, carrying the trunks and Hedwig's cage and looking around excitedly.

"And a private parlor, please, Tom," said Fudge pointedly.

"Bye," Jamie said miserably to Stan and Ern as Tom beckoned Fudge toward the passage that led from the bar.

Fudge marched them along the narrow passage after Tom's lantern, and then into a small parlor. Tom clicked his fingers, a fire burst into life in the grate, and he bowed himself out of the room.

"Sit down," said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire.

Jamie gladly sat.

Fudge took off his pinstriped cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up the trousers of his bottle-green suit and sat down opposite Harry.

"I am Cornelius Fudge. The Minister of Magic."

Harry already knew this, of course; he had seen Fudge once before, but as he had been wearing his father's Invisibility Cloak at the time, Fudge wasn't to know that. he had somehow through the connection, shared this memory with Jamie.

Tom the innkeeper reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on a table between Fudge and Harry and left the parlor, closing the door behind him.

"Well, you two," said Fudge, pouring out tea, "you've had us all in a right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I'd started to think… but you're safe, and that's what matters."

Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate toward Jamie.

"Eat, you look dead on your feet. Now then… You will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley and her dog. we have also remedied the nose problem and turned her dog back into a bulldog. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. They found your aunt and uncle poking her with pins to try and puncture her. (Jamie stifled laughter. It was hard)Miss Dursley has been punctured, healed of the many small cuts, and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that's that, and no harm done."

Fudge smiled at Harry over the rim of his teacup, rather like an uncle surveying a favorite nephew. Jamie, who couldn't believe her ears, opened her mouth to speak, couldn't think of anything to say, and closed it again.

"Ah, you're worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?" said Fudge. "Well, I won't deny that they are extremely angry, but they are prepared to take both of you back next summer as long as you stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays."

"We always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays," they said together, "and I don't ever want to go back to Privet Drive."

"Now, now, I'm sure you'll feel differently once you've calmed down," said Fudge in a worried tone. "They are your family, after all, and I'm sure you are fond of each other — er — very deep down."

It didn't occur to Jamie to put Fudge right. She was still waiting to hear what was going to happen to them now.

"So all that remains," said Fudge, now buttering himself a second crumpet, "is to decide where you're going to spend the last two weeks of your vacation. I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron and…"

"Hang on," blurted Harry. "What about my punishment?"

Fudge blinked. "Punishment?"

"I broke the law!" Harry said. "The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!"

Jamie aura-nudged him, but Harry paid no attention.

"Oh, my dear boy, we're not going to punish you for a little thing like that!" cried Fudge, waving his crumpet impatiently. "It was an accident! We don't send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!"

"Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle's house!" he told Fudge, frowning. "The Ministry of Magic said I'd be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!"

Unless Jamie's eyes were deceiving her, Fudge was suddenly looking awkward.

"Circumstances change, Harry… We have to take into account… in the present climate… Surely you don't want to be expelled?"

"Of course I don't," said Harry.

"Well then, what's all the fuss about?" laughed Fudge. "Now, have a crumpet, both of you, while I go and see if Tom's got atwo rooms for you."

Fudge strode out of the parlor and Jamie stared after him. There was something extremely odd going on. Why had Fudge been waiting for them at the Leaky Cauldron, if not to punish him for what they'd done? And now Jamie came to think of it, surely it wasn't usual for the Minister of Magic himself to get involved in matters of underage magic? maybe he was worried because of Sirius Black. He might have heard of their first and second year, and thought with their luck they would've run into him.

Fudge came back, accompanied by Tom the innkeeper.

"Room eleven's free, Harry, and Room twelve for you Jamie, right across the hall from each other" said Fudge. "I think you'll be very comfortable just one thing, and I'm sure you'll understand… I don't want you wandering off into Muggle London, all right? Keep to Diagon Alley. And you're to be back here before dark each night. Sure you'll understand. Tom will be keeping an eye on you for me."

"Okay," said Harry slowly, "but why?"

"Don't want to lose you again, do we?" said Fudge with a hearty laugh. "No, no… best we know where you are… I mean…"

Fudge cleared his throat loudly and picked up his pinstriped cloak.

"Well, I'll be off, plenty to do, you know…"

"Have you had any luck with Black yet?" Harry asked.

Fudge's finger slipped on the silver fastenings of his cloak.

"What's that? Oh, you've heard - well, no, not yet, but it's only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never yet failed… and they are angrier than I've ever seen them."

Fudge shuddered slightly.

"So, I'll say good-bye."

He held out his hand and Jamie, shaking it, had a sudden idea.

"Er — Minister? Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly," said Fudge with a smile.

"Well, third years at Hogwarts are allowed to visit Hogsmeade, but my aunt and uncle didn't sign the permission form. D'you think you could —?"

Fudge was looking uncomfortable.

"Ah," he said. "No, no, I'm very sorry, Jamie, but as I'm not your parent or guardian —"

"But you're the Minister of Magic," said Jamie eagerly. "If you gave us permission…"

"No, I'm sorry, but rules are rules," said Fudge flatly.

"Perhaps you'll be able to visit Hogsmeade next year. In fact, I think it's best if you don't… yes… well, I'll be off. Enjoy your stay."

And with a last smile and shake of Harry's hand, Fudge left the room. Tom now moved forward, beaming at them.

"If you'll follow me," he said, "I've already taken your things up…"

They followed Tom up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with a brass number eleven on it, which Tom unlocked and opened for him. Jamie hugged Harry and bid him goodnight before going to her room.

Inside was a very comfortable-looking bed, some highly polished oak furniture, and a cheerfully crackling fire.

Jamie had no intention of not going to Muggle London. She needed new clothes that were not dudley's and she wanted pens, not those freaking quills.

It took Them both several days to get used to his strange new freedom. Never before had they been able to get up whenever they wanted or eat whatever they fancied. Jamie had a highly sucessful shopping trip in a muggle clothing store. She got mostly t-shirts with funny sayings on them. She got some muggle clothes in Diagon Alley, In a store made for wizards that don't know how to dress in muggle clothes. She got an England Quidditch shirt, a gryffindor spirit shirt with a revolving nick on it, one that said go go Gryffindor, and she got an awesome gryffindor quidditch shirt, almost like a football jersey, but she got it saying Potter on the back, with her number, (which was technically Angelina's, but when Angelina left it would be hers) one. it was self-updating support on the front. at the moment, a stick figure Oliver Wood had just saved a score, and had passed it to a stick angelina, who passed it between stick Katie and Stick Alicia. they passed Stick Fred and Goerge, who pelted the opposing team in green with bludgers. A stick Harry, dived, caught the snitch, potter for president flashed across the shirt, and then a new game started. New favorite shirt. Jamie really liked this one flowy white top. It was gorgeous, but wasn't very girly. It was rather like Jamie, girly, but dominated by some flowy independence. . She got awesome purple pens, enough to write one thousand essays. She got many normal ones as well. And now she could even go wherever she pleased, "as long as it was in Diagon Alley", and as this long cobbled street was packed with the most fascinating wizarding shops in the world, Jamie only left for clothes and Pens.

They ate breakfast each morning in the Leaky Cauldron, where they liked watching the other guests: funny little witches from the country, up for a day's shopping; venerable-looking wizards arguing over the latest article in Transfiguration Today; wild-looking warlocks; raucous dwarfs; and once, what looked suspiciously like a hag, who ordered a plate of raw liver from behind a thick woolen balaclava. Gro-oss

After breakfast they would go out into the backyard, take turns, tapping on the right brick each day, and stand back as the archway into Diagon Alley opened in the wall.

They spent the long sunny days exploring the shops and eating under the brightly colored umbrellas outside cafes, where the fellow diners were showing one another their purchases ("It's a lunascope, old boy — no more messing around with moon charts, see?")

or else discussing the case of Sirius Black ("Personally, I won't let any of the children out alone until he's back in Azkaban"). They didn't have to do their homework under the blankets by flashlight anymore; now they could sit in the bright sunshine outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, finishing all their essays with occasional help from Florean Fortescue himself, who, apart from knowing a great deal about medieval witch burnings, gave them free sundaes every half an hour. jamie definitely needed a way to burn off that sugar, or else she would bounce off the walls for hours.

Jamie had gotten some more gold from gringotts, but the thing that made her want to just drop out of school to have came from her first favorite shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies,(a close second being Zonkos) a week after they'd arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

Curious to know what the crowd in the shop was staring at, they edged their way inside and squeezed in among the excited witches and wizards until they glimpsed a newly erected podium, on which was mounted the most magnificent broom she had ever seen in her life.

"Just come out — prototype —" a square-jawed wizard was telling his companion.

"It's the fastest broom in the world, isn't it, Dad?" squeaked a boy younger than them, who was swinging off his father's arm.

"Irish International Side's just put in an order for seven of these beauties!" the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. "And they're favorites for the World Cup!"

A large witch in front of them moved, and she was able to read the sign next to the broom:

** THE FIREBOLT **

THIS STATE-OF-THE-ART RACING BROOM SPORTS A STREAM-LINED, SUPERFINE HANDLE OF ASH, TREATED WITH A DIAMOND-HARD POLISH AND HAND-NUMBERED WITH ITS OWN REGISTRATION NUMBER. EACH INDIVIDUALLY SELECTED BIRCH TWIG IN THE BROOMTAIL HAS BEEN HONED TO AERODYNAMIC PERFECTION, GIVING THE FIREBOLT UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION. THE FIREBOLT HAS AN ACCELERATION OF 150 MILES AN HOUR IN TEN SECONDS AND INCORPORATES AN UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM. PRICE ON REQUEST.

Price on request… Jamie didn't like to think how much gold the Firebolt would cost. She had never wanted anything as much in her whole life — but Harry had a brrom she could use, and what was the point in emptying the Gringotts vault for the Firebolt, when they had a very good broom already? Jamie returned every single day, just to look at the Firebolt. Jmaie however went in and got size-adjustable Chaser, seeker and beater gloves, as well as beater shoulder pads and Chaser wrist guards. She resisted the urge to buy a broom

There were, however, things that Jamie needed to buy. She went to the Apothecary to replenish her store of potions ingredients and some extra animagus potion ingredients, and as her school robes were now several inches too short in the arm and leg, just like Harry's, they visited Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and got edges put on them( Jamie was worried she'd leave a dungbomb in the pocket, and who wants a trunk full of robes. Most important of all, she had to buy her new schoolbooks, which would include those for her new subjects, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmany, Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies, A small basic Healing book for Madam Pomfery, and Divination.

Jamie got a surprise as she looked in at the bookshop window. Instead of the usual display of gold-embossed spellbooks the size of paving slabs, there was a large iron cage behind the glass that held about a hundred copies of The Monster Book of Monsters. Torn pages were flying everywhere as the books grappled with each other, locked together in furious wrestling matches and snapping aggressively.

Care of Magical creatures! DUH!

Now Jamie understood why Hagrid had said it would come in useful.

As they entered Flourish and Blotts, the manager came hurrying toward them.

"Hogwarts?" he said abruptly. "Come to get your new books?"

"Yes," said Harry, "I need —"

"Get out of the way," said the manager impatiently, brushing Harry aside. He drew on a pair of very thick gloves, picked up a large, knobbly walking stick, and proceeded toward the door of the Monster Books' cage.

"Hang on," said Harry quickly, "I've already got one of those."

"Have you?" A look of enormous relief spread over the manager's face. "Thank heavens for that. I've been bitten five times already this morning —"

"Stroke them for gods sake." Jamie said/

"And get my hand bitten off? Not thanks"

"no seriously, it calms them down."

A loud ripping noise rent the air; two of the Monster Books had seized a third and were pulling it apart.

"Stop it! Stop it!" cried the manager, poking the walking stick through the bars and knocking the books apart. "I'm never stocking them again, never! It's been bedlam! I thought we'd seen the worst when we bought two hundred copies of the Invisible Book of Invisibility — cost a fortune, and we never found them… and I am not going to try and stroke a book for your entertainment. Well… is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Yes," said Harry, looking down his booklist, "We need Unfogging the Future by Cassandra Vablatsky."

"Ah, starting Divination, are you?" said the manager, stripping off his gloves and leading Harry into the back of the shop, where there was a corner devoted to fortune-telling. A small table was stacked with volumes such as Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against Shocks and Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul.

"Here you are," said the manager, who had climbed a set of steps to take down two thick, black-bound books. "Unfogging the Future. Very good guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods — palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails."

"Oh, I wouldn't read that if I were you," said the manager lightly, looking to see what Harry was staring at. "You'll start seeing death omens everywhere. It's enough to frighten anyone to death."

But Harry continued to stare at the front cover of the book, Jamie looked as well; it showed a black dog large as a bear, with gleaming eyes. It looked oddly familiar…

The manager pressed Unfogging the Future into both of their hands. Jamie looked up and saw a sign

_**Animagus Transformation by Winston Change is herefore banned from bookstores or being sold(because it's not like we can do anything about the already bought ones) because of the illegal potion it gives perfect directions to. We feel to many illegal animagi will spring up, and no more copies will be sold.**_

""Anything else?" he said."

"Yes," said Harry, tearing his eyes away from the dog's and dazedly consulting his booklist. "Er — we need Intermediate Transfiguration and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three."

"_I also need Basic Arithmany by Anna Math, Ancient Runes Syllabus by marrian Webstrode_(A/N lol get it) _Basic habits of British Muggles by John Brown_(A/N sorry to lazy to find out the real name of the book, I just guessed) and _a first guide to healing: everything from breaks to bruises to Parchment cuts_ by _Healer Tyson Enonl_(A/N I'm, on fiya) and..."

Jamie and Harry emerged from Flourish and Blotts twenty minutes later with their new books under their arms, most of Jamie's in a huge bag, and made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

She tramped up the stairs to her room, went inside, and tipped her books into her cauldron( not the shrunken animgus potion one, that would be stupid). Somebody had been in to tidy; the windows were open and sun was pouring inside.

As the days slipped by, Jamie started looking wherever she went for a sign of Ron or Hermione. Plenty of Hogwarts students were arriving in Diagon Alley now, with the start of term so near. Jamie met Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, her fellow Gryffindors, in Quality Quidditch Supplies, where they too were ogling the Firebolt, It was so beautiful They had a half hour conversation on how amazing it was; she also ran into Neville Longbottom, who she ran up and hugged before greeting his Formidable Gran, who looked surprised when Jamie told her how amazing Neville was and that he was one of her best friends. Neville was red at the compliments. His Gran, who had been telling him off for losing his booklist, was appeased when Jamie lent Neville hers.

Jamie woke on the last day of the holidays, thinking that she would at least meet Ron and Hermione tomorrow, on the Hogwarts Express. She got up, dressed, went for a last look at the Firebolt, and was just wondering where she'd have lunch, when someone yelled her name and she turned.

"JAMIE! HARRY!"

They were there, both of them, sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor — Ron looking incredibly freckly, Hermione very brown, both waving frantically at him.

"Finally!" said Ron, grinning at them as they sat down. "We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you'd left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's, and —"

"I got all my school stuff last week," Harry explained. "And how come you knew that we're staying at the ..."

"...Leaky Cauldron?"

"Dad," said Ron simply.

Mr. Weasley, who worked at the Ministry of Magic, would of course have heard the whole story of what had happened to Aunt Marge.

"Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry and Jamie, did you honestly turn her bulldog into a pink poodle and give her a pig snout?" said Hermione in a very serious voice.

"I didn't mean to," said Harry, while Ron roared with laughter. "I just — lost control."

"I meant to!" Jamie laughed.

"It's not funny, Ron," said Hermione sharply. "Honestly, I'm amazed They weren't expelled."

"So am I," admitted Harry. "Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested." He looked at Ron. "Your dad doesn't know why Fudge let us off, does he?"

"Probably 'cause it's you two, isn't it?" shrugged Ron, still chuckling. "Famous Potter twins and all that.

I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione's there as well!"

Hermione nodded, beaming. "Mum and Dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts things."

"You can stay in My room!" Jamie said Happily.

"ooh, Maybe Ginny can too."

"I got some nail stickers that are gryffindor lions. If you don't wash your feet they roar at you."

"Nice shirt Jamie by the way." Ron said.

" It's supposed to be a seven for me." Harry whined.

"Who says it's about you? It's going to be my number when Angelina leaves."

"Excellent!" said Harry happily. "So, have you got all your new books and stuff?"

"Look at this," said Ron, pulling a long thin box out of a bag and opening it. "Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair. And we've got all our books —" He pointed at a large bag under his chair. "What about those Monster Books, eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two."

"I'm telling you, you need to stroke them."

"Rubbish." Ron said.

"What's all that, Hermione?" Harry asked, pointing at not one but three bulging bags in the chair next to her.

"Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I," said Hermione. "Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies —"

"I'm doing the same, except I have independent Healing with madam Pomfrey."

"What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" said Ron, rolling his eyes at Harry. "You're Muggle-born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!"

"But it'll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view," said Hermione earnestly.

"Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, girls?" asked Harry, while Ron sniggered. Hermione and Jamie ignored them.

"I've still got ten Galleons," she said, checking her purse. "It's my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present."

"How about a nice book? said Ron innocently.

"No, I don't think so," said Hermione composedly. "I really want an owl. I mean, Harry's got Hedwig and you've got Errol —"

"I haven't," said Ron. "Errol's a family owl. All I've got is Scabbers." He pulled his pet rat out of his pocket. "And I want to get him checked over," he added, placing Scabbers on the table in front of them. "I don't think Egypt agreed with him."

Scabbers was looking thinner than usual, and there was a definite droop to his whiskers. Jamie never liked Scabbers. I mean, he was a freaking rat, and it was lucky to be alive with des around. des was no longer a pet, she was a companion, a friend.

_"anything you want desss?"_

_"Yessss, I want Chocolatesss."_

Jamie laughed. It looked like she wan't the only one who was obsessed with chocolate.

"There's a magical creature shop just over there," said Jamie, who knew Diagon Alley very well by now. "You could see if they've got anything for Scabbers, and Hermione can get her owl."

So they paid for their ice cream and crossed the street to the Magical Menagerie.

There wasn't much room inside. Every inch of wall was hidden by cages. It was smelly and very noisy because the occupants of these cages were all squeaking, squawking, jabbering, or hissing. The witch behind the counter was already advising a wizard on the care of double-ended newts, so Jamie,Harry, Ron, and Hermione waited, examining the cages.

A pair of enormous purple toads sat gulping wetly and feasting on dead blowflies. A gigantic tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell was glittering near the window. Poisonous orange snails were oozing slowly up the side of their glass tank, and a fat white rabbit kept changing into a silk top hat and back again with a loud popping noise. Then there were cats of every color, a noisy cage of ravens, a basket of funny custard-colored furballs that were humming loudly, and on the counter, a vast cage of sleek black rats that were playing some sort of skipping game using their long, bald tails.

The double-ended newt wizard left, and Ron approached the counter.

"It's my rat," he told the witch. "He's been a bit off-color ever since I brought him back from Egypt."

"Bang him on the counter," said the witch, pulling a pair of heavy black spectacles out of her pocket.

Ron lifted Scabbers out of his inside pocket and placed him next to the cage of his fellow rats, who stopped their skipping tricks and scuffled to the wire for a better took.

Like nearly everything Ron owned, Scabbers the rat was secondhand (he had once belonged to Ron's brother Percy) and a bit battered. Next to the glossy rats in the cage, he looked especially woebegone. Jamie hated rats! they were such stupid animals! Ron deserved better.

"Hm," said the witch, picking up Scabbers. "How old is this rat?"

"Dunno," said Ron. "Quite old. He used to belong to my brother."

"What powers does he have?" said the witch, examining Scabbers closely.

"Er —" The truth was that Scabbers had never shown the faintest trace of interesting powers. The witch's eyes moved from Scabbers's tattered left ear to his front paw, which had a toe missing, and tutted loudly.

"He's been through the mill, this one," she said.

"He was like that when Percy gave him to me," said Ron defensively.

"An ordinary common or garden rat like this can't be expected to live longer than three years or so," said the witch. "Now, if you were looking for something a bit more hard-wearing, you might like one of these —"

She indicated the black rats, who promptly started skipping again. Ron muttered, "Show-offs."

"Well, if you don't want a replacement, you can try this rat tonic," said the witch, reaching under the counter and bringing out a small red bottle.

"Okay," said Ron. "How much — OUCH!"

Ron buckled as something huge and orange came soaring from the top of the highest cage, landed on his head, and then propelled itself, spitting madly, at Scabbers.

"NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!" cried the witch, but Scabbers shot from between her hands like a bar of soap, landed splay-legged on the floor, and then scampered for the door.

"Scabbers!" Ron shouted, racing out of the shop after him; Harry followed.

Jamie and Hermione followed after Hermione bought Crookshanks. Crookshanks wasn't the prettiest animal, but he was smart, which was good enough for Jamie.

"You bought that monster?" said Ron, his mouth hanging open.

"He's gorgeous, isn't he?" said Hermione, glowing.

That was a matter of opinion, thought Jamie. The cat's ginger fur was thick and fluffy, but it was definitely a bit bowlegged and its face looked grumpy and oddly squashed, as though it had run headlong into a brick wall. But Crookshanks was awesome.

Now that Scabbers was out of sight, however, the cat was purring contentedly in Hermione's arms.

"Hermione, that thing nearly scalped me!" said Ron.

"He didn't mean to, did you, Crookshanks?" said Hermione.

"And what about Scabbers?" said Ron, pointing at the lump in his chest pocket. "He needs rest and relaxation! How's he going to get it with that thing around?"

"That reminds me, you forgot your rat tonic," said Hermione, slapping the small red bottle into Ron's hand. "And stop worrying, Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what's the problem? Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he'd been in there for ages; no one wanted him."

"Wonder why," said Ron sarcastically as they set off toward the Leaky Cauldron.

They found Mr. Weasley sitting in the bar, reading the Daily Prophet.

"Harry! Jamie!" he said, smiling as he looked up. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," they said together as she, Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined Mr. Weasley with their shopping.

Mr. Weasley put down his paper, and Jamie saw the now familiar picture of Sirius Black staring up at her.

"They still haven't caught him, then?" she asked.

"No," said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely grave. "They've pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far."

"Would we get a reward if we caught him?" asked Ron. "It'd be good to get some more money —"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," said Mr. Weasley, who on closer inspection looked very strained. "Black's not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It's the Azkaban guards who'll get him back, you mark my words."

At that moment Mrs. Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping bags and followed by the twins, Fred and George, who were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts (george had grow taller, well Fred had too, but Jamie focused mostly on George. Maybe a prank would do it or something, hmm); the newly elected Head Boy, Percy; and the Weasleys' youngest child and only girl, Ginny.

Ginny, who had always been very taken with Harry, seemed even more heartily embarrassed than usual when she saw him, perhaps because he had saved her life during their previous year at Hogwarts. She went very red and muttered "hello" without looking at him. she went up to Jamie, but before she could say anything, Jamie said I meant what I wrote.

I know, and I wanted to say thank you."

Percy, however, held out his hand solemnly as though he and Harry had never met and said, "Harry. How nice to see you."

"Hello, Percy," said Harry, trying not to laugh.

"Jamie, I hope you're well?" said Percy pompously, shaking hands. It was rather like being introduced to the mayor.

"Very well, thanks —"

"Harry!" said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply splendid to see you, old boy —"

"Marvelous Jamie," said George, grabbed Jamie's hand and shaking it.

"Absolutely spiffing to see you George." Jamie said in the same voice back, thanking her lucky sparks(wizard phrase, and honestly, do you think they are lucky enough to have lucky stars) that she didn't blush like Ginny, because otherwise she'd look exactly the same.

Percy scowled.

"That's enough, now," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum!" said Fred, as though he'd only just spotted her and seizing her hand, too. "How really corking to see you —"

"I said, that's enough," said Mrs. Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty chair. "Hello, dears. I suppose you've heard our exciting news?" She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy's chest. "Second Head Boy in the family!" she said, swelling with pride.

"And last," Fred muttered under his breath.

"I don't doubt that," said Mrs. Weasley, frowning suddenly. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects."

"What do we want to be prefects for?" said George, looking revolted at the very idea. "It'd take all the fun out of life."

Ginny giggled.

"You want to set a better example for your sister!" snapped Mrs. Weasley.

"Ginny's got other brothers to set her an example, Mother," said Percy loftily. "I'm going up to change for dinner…"

He disappeared and George heaved a sigh.

"We tried to shut him in a pyramid," he told jamie. "But Mum spotted us."

"Shame", said Jamie. "I would've helped."

Dinner that night was a very enjoyable affair. Tom the innkeeper put three tables together in the parlor, and the seven Weasleys, two Potters, and Hermione ate their way through five delicious courses.

"How're we getting to King's Cross tomorrow, Dad?" asked Fred as they dug into a sumptuous chocolate pudding.

"The Ministry's providing a couple of cars," said Mr. Weasley.

Everyone looked up at him.

"Why?" said Percy curiously.

"It's because of you, Perce," said George seriously. "And there'll be little flags on the hoods, with HB on them—"

"— for Humongous Bighead," said Fred.

Everyone except Percy and Mrs. Weasley snorted into their pudding.

"Why are the Ministry providing cars, Father?" Percy asked again, in a dignified voice.

"Well, as we haven't got one anymore," said Mr. Weasley, "and as I work there, they're doing me a favor…"

His voice was casual, but jamie couldn't help noticing that Mr. Wesley's ears had gone red, just like Ron's did when he was under pressure. Ulterior motive.

"Good thing, too," said Mrs. Weasley briskly. "Do you realize how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground… You are all packed, aren't you?"

"Ron hasn't put all his new things in his trunk yet," said Percy, in a long-suffering voice. "He's dumped them on my bed."

"You'd better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won't have much time in the morning," Mrs. Weasley called down the table. Ron scowled at Percy.

After dinner everyone felt very full and sleepy. One by one they made their way upstairs to their rooms to check their things for the next day. Ron and Percy were across from Hermione, Ginny, and Jamie.

They had just settled down when they heard angry voices and Jamie went to see what was going on. She met Harry in the hall.

The door of number twelve was ajar and Percy was shouting.

"It was here, on the bedside table, I took it off for polishing —"

"I haven't touched it, all right?" Ron roared back.

"What's up?" said Harry.

"My Head Boy badge is gone," said Percy, rounding on Harry.

"So's Scabbers's Rat Tonic," said Ron, throwing things out of his trunk to look. "I think I might've left it in the bar —"

"You're not going anywhere till you've found my badge!" yelled Percy.

"I'll get Scabbers's stuff, I'm packed," Jamie said to Ron, and thye went downstairs.

They were halfway along the passage to the bar, which was now very dark, when they heard another pair of angry voices coming from the parlor. A second later, she recognized them as Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys'. They hesitated, not wanting them to know they'd heard them arguing, when the sound of their own names made them stop, then move closer to the parlor door.

Jamie turned them both invisible.

"… makes no sense not to tell them," Mr. Weasley was saying heatedly. "Harry and Jamie have both got a right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating like children. They are thirteen years old and —"

"Arthur, the truth would terrify them!" said Mrs. Weasley shrilly. "Do you really want to send them back to school with that hanging over them? For heaven's sake, they're happy not knowing!"

"I don't want to make them miserable, I want to put them on guard!" retorted Mr. Weasley. "You know what Jamie, Harry and Ron are like, wandering off by themselves — they've ended up in the Forbidden Forest twice! But they mustn't do that this year! When I think what could have happened to them that night they ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn't picked them up, I'm prepared to bet they would have been dead before the Ministry found them."

"But they aren't dead, he's fine, so what's the point —"

"Molly, they say Sirius Black's mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been three weeks, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him, and I don't care what Fudge keeps telling the Daily Prophet, we're no nearer catching Black than inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is what Black's after —"

"But they'll be perfectly safe at Hogwarts."

"We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts."

"But no one's really sure that Black's after them —"

There was a thud on wood, and Jamie was sure Mr. Weasley had banged his fist on the table.

"Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Blacks been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: 'He's at Hogwarts… he's at Hogwarts.'

Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants both of them dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering them will bring You-Know-Who back to power.

Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that…".

There was a silence. Jamie leaned still closer to the door, desperate to hear more.

"Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But you're forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don't think anything could hurt Harry or Jamie at Hogwarts while Dumbledore's Headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?"

"Of course he knows. We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrances to the school grounds. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed."

"Not happy? Why shouldn't he be happy, if they're there to catch Black?"

"Dumbledore isn't fond of the Azkaban guards," said Mr. Weasley heavily. "Nor am I, if it comes to that… but when you're dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you'd rather avoid."

"If they save them —"

"– then I will never say another word against them," said Mr. Weasley wearily. "It's late, Molly, we'd better go up…"

Jamie heard chairs move. As quietly as they could, the two Potters hurried down the passage to the bar and out of sight. The parlor door opened, and a few seconds later footsteps told them that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were climbing the stairs.

The bottle of rat tonic was lying under the table they had sat at earlier. Jamie and Harry waited until they heard Mr. and Mrs. Wesley's bedroom door close, then headed back upstairs with the bottle.

Fred and George were crouching in the shadows on the landing, heaving with laughter as they listened to Percy dismantling his and Ron's room in search of his badge.

"We've got it," Fred whispered to jamie. "We've been improving it."

The badge now read Bighead Boy.

Jamie forced a laugh, went to give Ron the rat tonic, then went back to Ginny and Hermione, who were waiting for her. Jamie filled them in on everything, and they were both pale-faced when she was done.

Jamie invited Ginny to be an animagus too, and Ginny readily agreed. Hermione told Jamie that she had had a vision as well when she had been petrified, but she wouldn't tell them what it was.

"It's private." And Jamie didn't push her.

They did each other's nails and discussed ways to induce Ginny's, Harry's and Ron's visions. Jamie showed her new favorite shirt and they were both impressed. Hermione was more impressed with the spell work as supposed to how awesome it was. They stayed up late talking, a classic sleepover.

Next morning, Jamie stuck on her favorite shirt and a pair of jeans.

They headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasley was reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs. Weasley started telling them about a love potion she'd made as a young girl. All four of them were rather giggly.

"What were you saying?" Ron asked Harry as they sat down.

"Later," Harry muttered as Percy stormed in.

They were getting ready to leave. A small wickerwork basket stood beside the heap of trunks, spitting loudly.

"It's all right, Crookshanks," Hermione cooed through the wickerwork. "I'll let you out on the train."

"You won't," snapped Ron. "What about poor Scabbers, eh?"

He pointed at his chest, where a large lump indicated that Scabbers was curled up in his pocket.

Mr. Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside.

"They're here," he said. "Harry, come on."

Mr. Weasley marched Harry across the short stretch of pavement toward the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard wearing a suit of emerald velvet.

"In you get, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, glancing up and down the crowded street.

Harry got into the back of the car and was shortly joined by Jamie, Hermione, Ron, and, to Ron's disgust, Percy.

The journey to King's Cross was very uneventful compared with Jamie's trip on the Knight Bus. The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary. though Jamie noticed that they could slide through gaps that Uncle Vernon's new company car certainly couldn't have managed. They reached King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found them trolleys, unloaded their trunks, touched their hats in salute to Mr. Weasley, and drove away, somehow managing to jump to the head of an unmoving line at the traffic lights.

Mr. Weasley kept close to Harry's elbow all the way into the station.

"Right then," he said, glancing around them. "Let's do this in threes, as there are so many of us. I'll go through first with Jamie and Harry."

Mr. Weasley strolled toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry's trolley and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. With a meaningful look at them, he leaned casually against the barrier. they imitated him.

In a moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.

Percy and Ginny suddenly appeared behind them. They were panting and had apparently taken the barrier at a run.

"Ah, there's Penelope!" said Percy, smoothing his hair and going pink again. Ginny caught Jamie's eye, and they both turned away to hide their laughter

as Percy strode over to a girl with long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she couldn't miss his shiny badge. He looked like a peacock. Not bad, Percy the peacock.

Once the remaining Weasleys and Hermione had joined them, Jamie and Mr. Weasley led the way to the end of the train, past packed compartments, to a carriage that looked quite empty, ah their favorite compartment. They loaded the trunks onto it, stowed Hedwig and Crookshanks in the luggage rack, then went back outside to say goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley kissed all her children, then Hermione, then Harry, and finally Jamie. They were embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave them extra hugs.

"Do take care, won't you both?" she said as she straightened up, her eyes oddly bright. Then she opened her enormous handbag and said, "I've made you all sandwiches. Here you are, Ron… no, they're not corned beef… Fred? Where's Fred? Here you are dear…"

"Harry, Jamie" said Mr. Weasley quietly, "come over here for a moment."

He jerked his head towards a pillar, and Jamie and Harry followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around Mrs. Weasley.

"There's something I've got to tell you before you leave —" said Mr. Weasley in a tense voice.

"It's all right, Mr. Weasley," said Jamie, "We already know."

"You know? How could you know?"

"We — er — we heard you and Mrs. Wesley talking last night. I couldn't help hearing," Harry added quickly. "Sorry —"

"That's not the way I'd have chosen for you to find out," said Mr. Weasley looking anxious..

"No — honestly it's okay. This way, you haven't broken your word to Fudge and I know what's going on."

"you must be scared — "

"I'm not," said Jamie sincerely.

"Really," she added, because Mr. Weasley was looking disbelieving. "I'm not trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black can't be worse than Lord Voldemort, can he?"

Mr. Weasley flinched at the sound of the name, but overlooked it.

"I knew you were, well, made of stronger stuff than Fudge seems to think, and I'm obviously pleased that you're not scared, but —"

"Arthur!" called Mrs. Weasley, who was now shepherding the rest onto the train. "Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!"

"They're coming Molly!" said Mr. Weasley, but he turned back to them and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice, "Listen, I want you to give me your word —"

" — that I'll be a good boy and stay in the castle?" said Harry gloomily.

"Not entirely," said Mr. Weasley, who looked more serious than Jamie had ever seen him. "swear to me you won't go looking for Black."

Harry stared, "What!"

There was a loud whistle. Guards were walking along the train, slamming all the doors shut.

"Promise me," said Mr. Weasley, talking more quickly still, "that whatever happens —"

"Why would I go looking for someone I know wants to kill me?" said Jamie blankly.

"Swear to me that whatever you might hear —"

"Arthur, quickly!" cried Mrs. Weasley.

Steam was billowing from the train it had started to move. They ran to the compartment door and Ron threw it open and stood back to let them on. They leaned out of the window and waved at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley until the train turned a corner and blocked them from view.

"I need to talk to you in private," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione as the train picked up speed.

"Go away, Ginny," said Ron.

"Oh, that's nice," said Ginny huffily, "You know anyway," Jamie whispered, so Ginny left.

Jamie Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off down the corridor to their favorite compartment at the very end of the train.


	2. Remus Lupin Chapter!

SHOULD NEV BE AN ANIMAGUS! I NEED TO HAVE SOME INPUT OR I WON"T UPDATE! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Remus Lupin was exhausted. It was an after full moon day, and without his friends, he had no relief. It was all his fault. Padfoot. He didn't deserve that name. Remus was the only marauder left. He sat in the marauders compartment. He could see the carving on the wall. The Marauders Moony Wormtail Padfoot and Prongs. Padfoot may as well be dead. He fell into an uneasy sleep while the train rumbled off to Kings Cross.

"Go away Ginny," he heard in his dream. He was floating; he had had these dreams before. He would float and watch from above, but it was always different to real life. He had no power here, but at least the sounds remained the same, even when the sights didn't. He saw four thirteen year olds heading up the train. It was Remus, James, Lily and, Sirius. They were thirteen, alive well, not evil, and Remus didn't look so burdened. He looked closer, and saw that Sirius had blue eyes instead of grey and Remus had brown instead of amber. Lily and James had normal eyes, but they were not arguing, and seemed really close. They came in the last compartment, and Remus saw himself as he was now. He saw James furrow his brow.

"He looks really familiar, he looks kind of looks like that guy from the photos, but no offenses to him, he looks to old. There's also something what the word... animalistic about his aura. He does look like he needs a hug." This was James speaking, but in a girls voice. It was bizarre, because Remus could picture James actually saying that. He knew it was part of his dream that the boy (Girl?) looked like James.

"Who d'you reckon he is?" Sirius hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window.

"Professor R. J. Lupin." whispered the young Remus at once, again in a girls voice.

"How'd you know that?"

"It's on his case," young Remus replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the Remus' unconscious self's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R. J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.

"Wonder what he teaches?" said the James, frowning at Professor Lupin's pallid profile.

"That's obvious," whispered Young Remus. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Remus was slightly freaked, but he was smart, and was piecing it together bit by bit.

"Well, I hope he's up to it," said Sirius doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he?

Anyway…" he turned to Lily, "what were you going to tell us?"

The lily, in a thirteen year old boy's voice, explained all about how she (he?) had been told Sirius Black was after him/her and indicated James, saying a name that was blocked to Remus, and saying that Sirius was after both of them.

Young Remus and Sirius were pale afterwards.

"Sirius Black escaped to come after you? Oh, ~~~~~… you'll have to be really, really careful. Don't go looking for trouble, either of you…"

"I don't go looking for trouble," said James, nettled. "Trouble usually finds me."

"How thick would he have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?" said Sirius shakily.

Remus had come to the conclusion that these people were really his Goddaughter and unrelated Nephew, sitting with a couple of friends. When he came to this conclusion, he discovered that he would be able to hear the names. This dream was so much weirder than all the others.

"No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," said Sirius, who Remus was now positive was not. "No one's ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner too."

"But they'll catch him, won't they?" said young Remus, who Remus wasn't sure what to call. "I mean, they've got all the Muggles looking out for him too…"

"What's that noise?" said not-Sirius suddenly.

A faint, tinny sort of whistle was coming from somewhere. They looked all around the compartment.

"It's coming from your trunk, Harry," said not-Sirius, standing up and reaching into lily's luggage. Oh, eyes are the window to the soul. Harry must be more like lily, and Jamie more like James. A moment later he had pulled the Pocket Sneakoscope out from between Harry's robes. It was spinning very fast in the palm of not-Sirius' hand and glowing brilliantly.

"Is that a Sneakoscope?" said young-not-Remus interestedly, standing up for a better look.

"Yeah… mind you, it's a very cheap one," not-Sirius said. "It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol's leg to send it to Harry."

"Were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?" said not-young-Remus shrewdly.

"No! Well… I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. You know he's not really up to long journeys… but how else was I supposed to get their presents to them?"

"Stick it back in the trunk Ron," Jamie advised as the Sneakoscope whistled piercingly, "or it'll wake him up."

He nodded toward Professor Lupin. (The asleep one) Ron (so Ron was Harry's and Jamie's Padfoot. He hoped Ron would be different than his) stuffed the Sneakoscope into a particularly horrible pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, which deadened the sound, then closed the lid of the trunk on it.

"We could get it checked in Hogsmeade," said Ron, sitting back down.

"They sell that sort of thing in Dervish and Banges, magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me."

"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" asked young-not-Remus keenly. "I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain —"

"Yeah, I think it is," said Ron in an offhand sort of way. "But that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"

"What's that?" said not-Remus.

"It's this sweetshop," said Ron, a dreamy look coming over his face, "where they've got everything… Pepper Imps — they make you smoke at the mouth — and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you're thinking what to write next–"

"But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it?" not-Remus pressed on eagerly. "In Sites of Historical Sorcery it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain —"

"– and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," said Ron, who was plainly not listening to a word not-Remus was saying.

Not-Remus looked around at Harry and Jamie.

"Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?"

"'Spect it will," said Harry heavily. "You'll have to tell me when you've found out."

"What d'you mean?" said Ron.

"I can't go. The Dursleys didn't sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn't either." Jamie made a face Remus had seen on James many times.

Ron looked horrified.

"You're not allowed to come? But — no way — McGonagall or someone will give you permission —"

Harry gave a hollow laugh. Remus understood why. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house, was very strict.

"– or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle —"

"Ron!" said not-Remus sharply. "I don't think Harry should be sneaking out of the school with Black on the loose —" Remus himself agreed.

"Yeah, I expect that's what McGonagall will say when I ask of permission," said Jamie bitterly.

"But if we're with them Hermione," said Ron spiritedly to Hermione (so she was their moony. He was the last marauder. Remus hoped things would be better for this next group of Marauders). "Black wouldn't dare —"

"Oh, Ron, don't talk rubbish," snapped Hermione. "Black's already murdered a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street, do you really think he's going to worry about attacking them just because we're there?"

She was fumbling with the straps of a cat's basket as she spoke.

"Don't let that thing out!" Ron said, but too late; an ugly orange cat leapt lightly from the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron's knees; the lump in Ron's pocket trembled and he shoved it angrily away.

"Get out of it!"

"Ron, don't!" said Hermione angrily.

Ron was about to answer back when Professor Lupin stirred. They watched him apprehensively, but he simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on. Remus had been cracking up above. They sounded exactly like Lily and James. Lily had this cat that always tried to eat Peter. James would get furious. The cat would attempt to eat him even when Peter was human. So entertaining.

The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened overhead. Remus went back to his own self to get a better sleep.


	3. Woah! you can read this one! Sorry

**Jamie first person. Let me know if you enjoy it or if you want it normal third limited omniscient. **

**I have totally decided on Marauder names for the six of them! The six are**

**Jamie**

**Harry**

**Ron**

**Hermione**

**Ginny**

**Neville**

**And the names are J: MoonPrint, H: Spots (That one's still in the making, doesn't make much sense), R: Sir Bishop, Hr: Ring, G: Pounce, N: Mimbelion.**

**If you want any explanations as to what the names are, go ahead and PM me, or REVIEW!**

**I want you all to give it up for the amazing, the incredible, the nice and awesome(drumroll please)LeoDaLion!you are my bestest fanfiction friend.**

People were chasing backwards and forwards past the door of their compartment pretty much being idiots. Crookshanks, the weird cat, had now settled in an empty seat, his squashed face turned towards Ron, his yellow eyes on Ron's top pocket. Okay the cat was smart, I'll admit it, but that didn't mean the cat wasn't weird. At one o'clock the plump witch with the food cart arrived at the compartment door. Oh hell yes candy time!

"D'you think we should wake him up?" Ron asked awkwardly, nodding towards Professor Lupin. "He looks like he could do with some food."

Hermione approached Professor Lupin cautiously."Er — Professor?" she said. "Excuse me — Professor?"He didn't move.

"Don't worry, dear," said the witch, as she handed a large stack of cauldron cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."

"I suppose he is asleep?" said Ron quietly, as the witch slid the compartment door closed. "I mean — he hasn't died, has he?"

"No, no, he's breathing," I whispered (though i felt like rolling my eyes and letting him know that, even though it was quite obvious he wasn't, lupin was dead) taking the stack of chocolate frogs Harry passed me. They were beautiful. Chocolate heals all. Ahhhhh! He might not be very good company, well, maybe now, seeing as he was asleep, but Professor Lupin's presence in their favorite compartment had its uses. Mid-afternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, we heard footsteps outside in the corridor again, and our three least favorite people appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. I barely even knew that they had first names, I'd learned them last year. Wow they fail at life. Draco Malfoy had been enemies with us ever since we had met him on our very first journey to Hogwarts. Malfoy, who was ugly, foul-faced, more-pompous-than-Percy, Narcissistic, and a total dumbass, not to mention that he was in Slytherin was waiting there. He played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the same position that Harry played on the Gryffindor team. Harry, it goes without saying, was a lot better than Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle exist only to do Malfoy's bidding. They were both wide and muscley; Crabbe was taller, with a pudding-bowl haircut and a very thick neck; Goyle had short, bristly hair and long, gorilla arms. I don't know what's wrong with them, and if I asked, I'd get a grunt in response.

"Well, look who it is," said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. "Potty, Pothead, and the Weasel." Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.

"How incredibly original Malfoy," I said, "Spend all summer thinking it up? It was all for naught though, Peeves thought of them first."

"I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley," said Malfoy, ignoring me "Did your mother die of shock?"Ron stood up so quickly he knocked Crookshanks's basket to the floor. Go Ron! Professor Lupin gave a snort. Awww I was looking forward to that. Killjoy. The guy was most likely awake. Sneaky little...

"Who's that?" said Malfoy, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted Lupin.

"New teacher," said Harry, who got to his feet, too, in case he needed to hold Ron back. Another killjoy! Ron would've crushed him, and I would get to practice my bat-bogey hex.

"What were you saying, Malfoy?"Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed; he wasn't fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose."C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they and Ron sat down again, Ron massaging his knuckles.

"I'm not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year," he said angrily. "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his head and —"Ron made a violent gesture in midair. I laughed, but... "Ron," hissed Hermione, pointing at Professor Lupin, "be careful…"But Professor Lupin was still fast asleep.

The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north. Neville came into the compartment. He was now slowly integrating into the group. He was totally going to be in on the animagus potion if I had to knock him out and shove the potion down his throat. The windows soon became a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin "slept". Actually it was possible he had woken up and fallen back asleep.

"We have to be nearly there, I'll die if I'm here for much longer," I said, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black words had hardly left me when the train started to slow down. Oh thank god! Hogwarts ahoy!

"Great," said Ron, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast…"

"We can't be there yet," said Hermione, checking her watch.

"So why're we stopping?" Countered Ron.

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the , who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. I went too. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told me that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Please let it have hit malfoy. And not hit Fred, George or Ginny. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and we were plunged into total darkness.

"What's going on?" said Ron's voice.

"Ouch!" gasped Hermione. "Ron, that was my foot!"We felt our way back to our seats.

"D'you think we've broken down?""Dunno…"There was a squeaking sound, and I could see the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out. I got this horrible sense of foreboding. Something bad was going to happen, I knew it. I didn't want to worry anyone, and so kept quiet, trying to calm myself by imagining the pranks I would pull this year. Imagining Malfoy hot pink dressed in a tutu helped a bit. Oh and the animagus potion! Oh yes! Sure the spell would take practicing, but this would be awesome. I ran over the steps in my mind. Get Harry, Ron, Neville, and Ginny to have a vision. Take the potion. Perform the spell. Wait 26 hours or have a strong rush of emotion. Thank god you didn't have to cast the spell on yourself. Otherwise Harry and Ron would never manage it. And we can turn into any animal since we will acheive this before we turn fifteen. Yes. I'm going to be the ultimate cat burglar! I can just turn into a fly or something and go around the castle whenever I want. I was hashly jerked back to reality by someone falling painfully over my legs. Owwww!

"Sorry! D'you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry —" oh it's Ginny. Not a big deal. I thought I was being attacked."Hi, Ginny," I said, lifting her up and bringing her to the seat next to me. "Jamie? Is that you? What's happening?""No idea! Sit down —" Ginny sat, then a couple seconds later there was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain; Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks. Ah poor guy. He won't be able to sit for a week!

"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice. Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. I could hear movements in his corner.o hen there was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary. Amber eyes. It was the guy from the photo! It had to be! there was no way around it! Amber eyes weren't exactly common..."Stay where you are." he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it. Ohh creepy!Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling.

Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. My eyes darted downward, and what I saw made my stomach was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water… ewwww. It was so disgusting. Imagine old banana peels stuck in a blender with old orange and potato skins and spread like jelly on a hand. It was thankfully visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed my gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. Oh my Jesus get away from me!

An intense cold swept over us all. I felt my own breath catch in my cold went deeper than my skin. It was inside my chest, it was inside my very heart… I was choking on air. I couldn't see. I was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in my ears as though of water. I was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder…And then, from far away, I heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. I felt overwhelming worry and fear. I wanted to help whoever it was, i tried to move my arms, but I couldn't… a thick white fog was swirling around me, inside me, I was helpless —"Harry! Harry! Jamie! Jamie! Are you all right?"Someone was slapping me face. I repressed the urge to slap back.

"W-what the hell are you doing?" I opened my eyes; there were lanterns above me, and the floor was shaking — the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on. Harry and I seemed to have slid out of our seats and onto the floor. Ron and Hermione were kneeling next to us and above I could see Neville and Professor Lupin watching. I felt very sick. Uggh. I was looking forward to the feast. Thanks a lot creepy creature!

"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah," said Harry and I together. I looked quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished. Thank the freakin lord!

"What happened? Where's that — that thing? Who screamed?" We both asked.

"No one screamed," said Ron, more nervously still. I looked around the bright compartment. Ginny and Neville looked back at me, both very pale.

"But I heard screaming —" Harry started.

A loud snap made us all jump. Scared the absolute crap outta me I'll tell ya that. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces. Oh yes. I prepared to give puppy dog eyes for some when..."Here," he said to me, handing me a huge piece. Awesome! Internal victory dance! "Eat it. It'll help."I took a huge bite(who am I to turn down free chocolate) and felt warmth spreading throughout my body. Ahhh.

"What was that thing?" Harry asked Lupin.

"A Dementor," said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. "One of the Dementors of Azkaban."Everyone stared at him. Professor Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket."Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…"He strolled past us and disappeared into the corridor.

"Are you sure you're okay?" said Hermione, watching us anxiously."I don't get it… what happened?" we asked, wiping more sweat off our faces.

"Well — that thing — the Dementor — stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face) — and you — you —""I thought you two were having a fit or something," said Ron, who still looked scared. "You both went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching —"

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the Dementor, and pulled out his wand," said Hermione, "and he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the Dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away…"

"It was horrible," said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"

"I felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again…"Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as I felt, gave a small sob; Hermione and I went over and each put a comforting arm around her.

"But didn't any of you"-Harry started

"— fall off your seats?" I finished. So so so awkward. Awkward is an awkward word. What kind of word goes wkw? Soooo weirdly awkward. You probably don't care to hear much more about my newfound obsession with the word awkward, so I'll keep going...

"No," said Ron, looking anxiously at us again. "Ginny was shaking like mad, though…"

I didn't understand. I felt weak and shivery(never a good thing for a prankster. Ever) And I felt as though I was recovering from a bad bout of flu; I also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had they gone to pieces like that, when no one else had? Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, "We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes, are you all right, Jamie, Harry" I didn't bother to ask how Professor Lupin knew my name. If he was in the mirror, he would know. And he was at my parents' wedding. There was a war going on, they only would have invited people they were close to.

"Fine," I and Harry muttered at the same time, but neither of us of us talked much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside; owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville's pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets. We left the train and immediately lost Ginny and Neville.

"Firs' years this way!" called a familiar voice. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I turned and saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake."All right, you four?" Hagrid yelled over the heads of the crowd. We waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around us were shunting us away along the platform. We followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, I could only assume, by an invisible horse,(So cool)because when we climbed inside and shut the door, the coach set off all by itself, bumping and swaying in coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. I felt better since the chocolate, chocolate was a cure-all anyway, but still weak. Ron and Hermione kept looking at me and Harry sideways, as though frightened we might collapse again. I told them exactly where they could stick their concern and they stopped. Uggh no bad attention. Quidditch, Transfiguration, or potions attention equals awesome. My-parents-died-and-now-you-think-you-can-congradulate-me-on-it attention was not. Neither was Are-you-okay attention either.

As our carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, I saw two more towering, hooded Dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf me again; I leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed my eyes and imagined Snape and Malfoy ballroom dancing in pink dresses until we had passed the gates. The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione and Ron got out. I followed. As Harry stepped down, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in my ears. "You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?"Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Harry's way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously.

"Shove off, Malfoy," said Ron, whose jaw was clenched.

"Did you faint as well, Weasley?" said Malfoy loudly. "Did the scary old Dementor frighten you too, Weasley?"

"Shut the hell up malfoy." I said angrily.

"Are you telling me what to do? Why dont you..."

"Is there a problem?"said a mild voice. Professor Lupin had just gotten out of the next carriage. Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and the dilapidated suitcase. With a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice, he said, "Oh, no — er —Professor," then he smirked at Crabbe and Goyle and led them up the steps into the castle. What an arse.

Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the four of us joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous Entrance Hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper door into the Great Hall stood open at the right; I followed the crowd toward it, but I had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called, "Potter! Potter! Granger! I want to see you all!"

Harry, Hermione and I turned around, surprised. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, and my absolute favorite teach was calling over the heads of the crowd. She was a stern looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun; her sharp eyes were framed with square spectacles. Minnie was a softy underneath though, I gave her my most charming smile.

"There's no need to look so worried — I just want a word in my office," she told us. "Move along there, Weasley."Ron stared as Professor McGonagall ushered us away from the chattering crowd; we accompanied her across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and along a they were in her office, a small room with a large, welcoming fire, Professor McGonagall motioned us to sit down.

She settled herself behind her desk and said abruptly, "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Potters."Before I could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came bustling in"I'm fine," we said together, "I don't need anything —"

"Oh, it's you two, is it?" said Madam Pomfrey, ignoring this and bending down to stare closely at Harry. "I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?"

"It was a Dementor, Poppy," said Minnie and gave Pomfery a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.

"Setting Dementors around a school," she muttered, pushing back Harry's hair and feeling his forehead. "He won't be the last one who collapses. Yes, he's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate —"

"I'm not delicate!" we said crossly.

"Of course you're not," said Madam Pomfrey absentmindedly, now taking my pulse.

"What do they need?" said Professor McGonagall crisply. "Bed rest? Should they perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"

"Absolutley not going to happen. You know I'll just sneak out." at the same time that..."I'm fine!" said Harry, jumping up.

"Well, they should have some chocolate, at the very least," said Madam Pomfrey, who was now trying to peer into Harry's eyes.

"We've already had some," we said together.

"Professor Lupin gave us some.-"

"-He gave it to all of us." Harry finished.

"Did he, now?" said Madam Pomfrey approvingly. "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"

Thank god yes!

"Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?" Professor McGonagall said sharply.

"Yes," said Harry."Very well. Harry, kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger and Miss Potter about their course schedules, then we can go down to the feast together."

Harry went back into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey. Minnie held out two gold chains. "These are time turners." She said. "In order to get to class." I listened just enough to kinda hear what was going on. Blah blah blah rules blah no blah seen blah. I finally got the necklace. It was a pretty hourglass one turn for an hour. Pshh no being seen I have a freakin awesome(and handy) invisibility necklace. Unless I landed on top of someone I'd be fine.


End file.
